


Cat Farts

by corpsefluid



Series: MGS Kink Meme [6]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad Sex, Bodily Fluids, Bodily Functions, Eproctophila, Farting, Intergluteal Sex, Kink Meme, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Never Making MGSV Compliant, Not MGSV Compliant, Oral Sex, Rimming, Vomiting, fart kink, non-descriptive pooping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-04-14 16:46:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4572075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corpsefluid/pseuds/corpsefluid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fresh week old garbage, hot off the kink meme.</p><p>A disgustingly fetishistic tale of Ocelot suffering through increasingly embarrassing and painful intestinal distress. With guest appearances from other people making things <i>worse</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _"Ocelot getting through a day on motherbase with a nasty case of gas. Having no time to take a day off despite the pain and discomfort, but also horribly embarrassed by it._  
>  _not required but I'd find it deeply amusing if either opportunities are taken to mess with Kaz or Big Boss thinking it's hilarious for Ocelot to be so worked up about such tiny toots because he can't smell a damn thing. Or squeezing Ocelot in a way that makes him fart and Ocelot is completely humiliated by this."_ For the [Kink Meme.](http://mgs-kink.dreamwidth.org/757.html)
> 
> Abandon hope all ye who enter here and aren't either into this sort of thing or prepared to take it in good humour.
> 
> A suggested alternate title was "The Misadventures of Gassy!Ocelot" but I'm not nearly brave enough for that and I'm not nearly witty enough to think of something better.

Ocelot was rather rudely awoken far too early in the morning by a stabbing pain in his guts. His stomach lurched as his guts gurgled threateningly, it was entirely too early for this and now that he was awake he needed to piss as well.

As Ocelot rolled over to get himself out of the bed his stomach cramped painfully again, forcing him to double over as his guts got louder. Acknowledging the threat a little more seriously this time, Ocelot darted for the bathroom. As fast as the pain in his guts would allow him at least.

Safely planted on a toilet, Ocelot allowed himself to relax, prepared for the tantrum his insides were clearly about to throw. A long, low, sputtering rumble of a fart seeped out of him, but nothing else, solid nor liquid, despite the heavy, wet gurgling of his intestines that followed. Ocelot clenched, pushing in hopes of moving things along and getting it over with.

But again nothing, all thunder and no storm. Just another long, very nearly wet sounding, fart burning his arsehole. The smell was positively rancid, a thick greasy rotten egg-ish smell that made him want to vomit onto the tiles in front of him.

He had to have eaten something. Something had disagreed with his guts horribly, short of food poisoning, but still toxic to his insides. Rotting and festering in his bowels, producing more disgusting gas.

A few more rumbling bouts of gas passed through him without a hint of there being any sort of 'main event' in his near future. By now he was desperate for that piss, and unlike noises from his stomach, had some guarantee of relief.

Ocelot stood, with some considerable discomfort, leaving his sleep pants around his thighs on the off chance he had to change positions in a hurry.

At least this bit of discomfort was easy to get rid of.

As Ocelot relieved his bladder, more rotten air oozed its way out of him. Quietly this time, but no less vile as the stench spread through the room.

If his body was going to continue like this, his day was shaping up to be a terrible one and it hadn't even really started yet.

Not nearly ready to actually get up, Ocelot pulled his pants up and returned to his bed. Slumping down on his side. Half curled to ease the stomach pain.

Ocelot kneaded the flesh of his belly, trying to shift some of painful tightness in his bowels, not even feeling slightly relieved from what he'd already expelled. With a gurgle like an emptying drain, another foul gaseous release burst from him. This one held steady for almost a full five seconds with the kind of sound you got from a gas leak, just hissing air... ending in a choking splutter. It relieved a little of the pressure in his guts, but with another wet gurgle he was right back where he started: feeling like he was being stabbed.

Which wasn't a light comparison to make, especially when you'd actually been stabbed before.

Curling tighter as another cramp hit, Ocelot groaned pitifully. Already groggy from not nearly enough sleep and nauseous from the smell, the thought of doing anything at all was not a pleasant one.

Going back to sleep wasn't an option, and food was unappealing, especially considering it had to have been something from the mess hall team that had done this to him in the first place, but he did need to eat.

Eventually, for now he'd just lie here trying to ease the cramping as best he could. Hoping the attack would wear off if given some time.

It was best not to think about what had to happen for something to have this effect on him, considering _some_ things he'd eaten before.

When he finally _had_ to move, well, as best he tried to move carefully, almost every step came with another puff of gas escaping his arse. Not loud enough for anyone else to hear, but it was humiliating enough just knowing it was happening.

With no end in sight, Ocelot tried to make getting his food quick. In and out so he could find some place outside to eat away from other people. Hoping if he got most of it out now he wouldn't have to deal with it while he was working.

 

* * *

It didn't help, and Ocelot found himself incredibly glad these drills he had to run were entirely outdoors. Just a stretch or twisting wrong was enough to set off another bout of the farts. Even though he'd managed to keep quiet, they were no less vile than they'd been that morning.

The cramps had only gotten worse over time, and now he was actively moving around it was harder to bear.

By the end of it he just wanted to go back to bed, if there wasn't more work to do, he almost certainly would have.

DD however, had entirely different plans in regards to what Ocelot had to do.

DD was nowhere near fully grown, but he was more than big enough and heavy enough to knock most men down when he caught them by surprise. Ocelot wasn't most men, but he was very much preoccupied and not at all ready to catch the weight of an excited over-sized puppy. Especially not when said massive puppy planted his gigantic paws square into his ailing stomach.

Being knocked on his arse, and assaulted by puppy kisses was the least of Ocelot's concerns however. When he hit the ground another fart escaped him, but there was something decidedly different about this one by the distinctly wet tone and something hot against the seat of his pants.

Moving as fast as his stomach would allow, Ocelot shoved the overgrown-pup off him. Getting to his feet, cautious of his miserable guts and anything that may have squirted from him due to DD's assault.

DD bowed, clearly hoping to be played with, oblivious to Ocelot's suffering. DD could wait, Ocelot's bowels could not. With DD bounding after him, Ocelot made a beeline for the nearest bathroom.

Apparently it wasn't just _him_ feeling under the weather today, the room smelt worse than the barnyard, with just a hint of vomit under the smell of rotten shit and sweat. Every stall was occupied, _and_ there was a line.

Fortunately though, just as he came through the door, one was vacated.

Making his decision, Ocelot suckerpunched the man moving to take the free stall. Taking advantage of the crumpled form and the commotion it created to claim the stall for himself. Maybe not necessary, maybe he could have pulled rank instead, but he really couldn't wait. He wasn't going to risk shitting himself in public, he wasn't sure he could ever live that down if that happened.

The damp patch inside his underwear as he dropped his trousers attested to just how close that possibility had been though. He'd gotten there not a moment too soon, the second he sat down it was like the bottom of his stomach dropped out, it felt like his internal organs were being yanked out through his arsehole in a torrent of liquid fire.

Though, as disgusting as it was, it actually felt good to get rid of the toxic waste polluting his guts. The bloating that had been causing so much pain through the day actually started to ease as more than a few bubbles of gas worked their way out along with everything else inside him.

It took a few minutes before it was well and truly over. After a couple of fake outs, he wanted to be absolutely certain before even attempting to move.

Despite a whole lot of threatening noises from his guts, it seemed safe enough. Cleaning up and straightening his clothes, even despite the horrific smell, he could honestly say he felt better.

Not great, he was still sore and riddled with cramps, but it was an improvement to how he'd started the day. Ocelot actually felt like he could stretch and move now.

The man he'd suckerpunched before was still on the floor, far worse for wear. A groaning ball of pain in much the same position Ocelot had nearly been, worse even. After being punched he'd ended up vomiting in addition to the dark brown mark spreading on the seat of his pants.

No one else was ready to help the man. Too occupied, clutching their own stomachs, with not being him, as the line had actively started stepping over him to snag the free stalls as they appeared.

Ocelot had barely stepped out of the one he'd just occupied before another man had rushed to take it.

In the end, Ocelot decided he didn't care enough to help, he just wanted to be far, far away from this sewerage pit now that he didn't need it.

DD had waited patiently outside, jumping up with a whine as Ocelot stepped out.

Ocelot gave DD a scratch behind the ears as an apology, it wasn't the pup's fault for jumping on him like that. He was still a baby anyway, big, but still very much a baby. Ocelot didn't feel up to taking him for a run, but he could manage a walk and put him through some commands again to make sure he got some attention.

One of the men would be happy to take him for some of the more vigorous exercise a growing pup needed.

 

* * *

Once he'd been put through his paces, DD was a lot happier and calmer.

Ocelot however needed a break. Especially now his bowels were acting up again. Fortunately all the other work he had to do were all things he could set his own schedule for and he could procrastinate on for at least a bit.

It was a good patch of sun in a quiet spot, with his loss of sleep in mind and being a whole lot more comfortable than what he'd woken up to, a mid-day nap was too tempting to resist.

DD seemed content to just sprawl out near Ocelot, he didn't seem to mind that Ocelot didn't want to do much, especially now that he'd gotten some proper attention from him.

Ocelot eventually woke up in much the same way he had that morning, the stabbing pain in his guts was back with a vengeance. While he was more rested this time, it wasn't any more pleasant.

The second Ocelot moved, DD perked up, though he put his head back down once he realised Ocelot wouldn't be going anywhere soon.

Ocelot looked around to check for witnesses before shifting to expel an absolute blurter of a fart. He was far too sick of this mess to try and keep things silent, with no one in earshot he may as well take the opportunity.

Massaging his stomach to nudge the bubbles of gas festering inside him along and ease the pressure, Ocelot pulled a knee up to his chest for the next one, drawing out a long deep rumble bordering on five seconds without pause. That one helped, his intestines made even more noise in response, but the hard edge on the pain was taken right off.

He wasn't sure how his body was managing to produce so much, but he wasn't going to make the mistake of assuming he was remotely close to the end of it. Keeping his knee up, Ocelot shifted again hoping to get at least one more solid dent in 'the issue' before he had to actually get up and do something.

He didn't get anything quite as satisfying as the previous one, Just a couple of short, loud blasts, more volume in decibels than volume in quantity for all the relief it gave. Though he was still glad to be outside so he didn't have to linger in the acrid aroma of his problem.

Sprawling back out, Ocelot stretched before forcing himself to get up.

DD jumped to his feet readily, full of far more vim and vigour than Ocelot was in any state to deal with. Bounding ahead then running back, wagging his tail madly, hoping he'd be taken for a proper run to stretch his growing legs.

“I'll get someone else to take you for a run later.”

DD's ears pricked at Ocelot talking to him and he barked at the word run.

“ _Later_ , DD,” repeating himself didn't make it more understandable to DD, but Ocelot made a point of treating talking to DD like a conversation. Helped DD get his commands down, though mostly it was just because Ocelot enjoyed talking without having to think about every word in overwrought detail. Animals made good conversation partners for that.

Right now Ocelot needed to be somewhere.

 

* * *

Walking was worse than before, while he wasn't dropping bombs with every step, his guts were tying themselves in knots. Growling and groaning loudly with every tiny movement, threatening far worse than the putrid puffs from before.

Just bending over forced another rancid, almost caustic, fart to loudly and rudely rip from him with a sound like a motorcycle failing to start.

Ocelot wasn't sure how long he could go on like this. Especially considering the sort of work he had to do.

Making his way in the direction of the brig slowly, trying not to jar his stomach if it could be helped, Ocelot spotted another detour.

Just outside one of the buildings Miller was chatting to a pair of female recruits, telling a story most likely judging by the way he was leaning on his crutch and gesturing. Probably hoping to get back into the game of getting new notches for his bed post.

Varying degrees of bitter and just plain angry about the whole thing, Ocelot plotted a bit of revenge. Walking a wide circle around the group, Ocelot moved to the railing just upwind of Miller's latest attempt at conquest.

Looking on, Ocelot spread his legs and leant back on the railing, directing his focus on his poor abused sphincter. Easing a steady stream of hot, fetid air from his bowels as silently as he could manage. Gently massaging his belly to encourage the malodorous gas through him.

It took about ten seconds, but even from a distance he could pinpoint the exact moment the stench he'd created had hit the group. The girls fled, abandoning Miller to the repulsive cloud of contamination. Miller on the other hand, spotted Ocelot immediately and started hobbling towards his upwind position.

If he'd wanted, Ocelot could easily have outrun Kaz, even with the cramps crippling his speed, but running would also be admitting what he did was exactly as intentional as it was. By not moving he could play innocent, pretend it was an accident since denial was almost impossible with him being the only one upwind of Miller's attempted pick up.

“What was that?” Miller accused him outright.

“What was what?” Ocelot sorely wanted to grin, but he had a far better poker face than that, instead he focused on keeping a straight face as he continued leaking putrid gas.

“You know damn well,” Miller just couldn't prove it so he had to do his best to get his anger out where he could.

“No, I don't, I'm sick right now, what do you want from me?”

“Is that what you call it?” Miller's expression made it obvious how badly he wished he had a free hand to cover his nose, he was clearly trying not to breathe beyond what he needed to shout at Ocelot and even then he was nearly choking.

“Oh I'm sorry, I didn't know I needed your permission to have food poisoning just like half men on base do. Next time I'll make sure to fill out all the forms and get every thing approved before the next time you feed us something that makes everyone shit themselves inside out,” food poisoning, stomach flu, just a really bad recipe, Ocelot couldn't be one-hundred-percent on what went wrong, but he could absolutely blame Miller for it. Ocelot certainly couldn't punch him in the face, but he could still express how pissed he was about the whole thing. Even if it was just by letting off more of the stinking, loathsome gas that had been plaguing him all day while he spoke.

It was absolutely childish, but there was some satisfaction in watching Miller make the decision as to whether he wanted to tell Ocelot off or get the fuck away so he didn't have to breathe any more of the fumes. Ocelot had to be careful with his breathing himself, that last silent-but-deadly was nearly bad enough it could be tasted.

Miller chose the second option, muttering a choked “ _you reek_ , get back to work,” before jabbing Ocelot's ailing stomach with the end of his crutch.

Ocelot yelped as he went down, curling in on his guts protectively as Miller made his getaway. Fortunately it wasn't a repeat of when DD had jumped on him, but it was a while before Ocelot felt like moving would be safe enough that he actually could go do the whole work thing.

Getting onto his knees to get up forced a sound not unlike an untied balloon, a sound that drew out to a higher pitch as Ocelot slumped forward again, but after that tapered off, the cramps were gone. Sure, Ocelot was still sore from the jab and having dealt with the cramping throughout the day, but there was no longer any crippling, stabbing pain throughout his intestinal tract.

He'd thank Miller, but honestly, _fuck Miller._

 

* * *

In the brig, Ocelot elected to supervise recruits over his usual hands on methods. The boys had to learn about proper interrogation somehow, though really it was out of concern that if he got too active his organs would start betraying him again.

Ocelot wanted to take the chance to enjoy his own current complete lack of pain. He was still a bit gassy, so being in a position to discretely drop his guts when he needed to was a bonus. No one was going to tell it was him, not when the process of torture led to prisoners losing control of all sorts of bodily functions.

It was a good place for him to relax, the stress relief that came with watching a man be broken helped him unwind often enough as it was. Letting go of his concerns about everything from his stomach upset to his loss of sleep to the lack of proper exercise that day.

It was peaceful like that, no matter how loud it got.

Shame there were only so many prisoners.

Though that was why he ran these things in the first place, he _(usually)_ got the job done. The to-do list in the brig still ran out faster than Ocelot would have liked and he had to move on eventually.

Supervising the brig put just enough spring in his step he didn't need to completely force himself to get off his arse and start heading to the next place he 'needed' to be.

Unfortunately Snake caught Ocelot off guard completely, grabbing Ocelot around the middle from behind with no warning at all, squeezing Ocelot in just the wrong way that he emitted a pained squeak... from both ends.

Snake froze for a moment, then lifted Ocelot off his feet, squeezing Ocelot's abused guts again with a laugh.

Ocelot could feel the heat of every millimetre of his skin going bright red as he tried to squirm from Snake's grip. Clenching in an attempt to resist the manhandling long enough to get away, but with one more squeeze another slightly lower pitched toot was forced from him before Snake put him down with an amused slap on the back.

Standing stock still, Ocelot decided he wasn't going back to work that day. Instead he was going to do exactly what he'd been resisting all day. Go back to his room and quietly hope the earth's crust would open up and swallow him whole.

Ideally, very quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly that last bit is written considering how 99% of us are going to operate when we start fucking around mother base. I know for a fact that I'm going to tranq, fulton and CQC Ocelot multiple times at the bare minimum.


	2. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow there's actually a plot here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember kids: vent your weird/unusual/gross kinks on the regular, don't be like me an hold it in until you burst a fucking sewer main over an unsuspecting fandom.
> 
> This was meant to be a short one off thing, but now there's at least another 2000+ words still to post.

After that instance of presumed food poisoning, Ocelot's stomach seemed unusually sensitive.

He ate fairly well most of the time, but the odd variation didn't _usually_ have much effect. In the days after he'd been sick though, it seemed like it took only the tiniest toe out of line to cause a veritable wind storm. Nothing quite like the original illness, but it seemed like the tiniest indulgence would leave him riddled with cramps and hours of rancid gas.

Which was why he found himself entirely unprepared when an attack fell on a night he'd arranged to spend with John. With what little time Ocelot got to spend with John outside of 'business,' he'd rather something as small as his insides hurling a world class tantrum didn't keep him from it, but he'd also rather not gas the whole room.

In the end, a butt plug wasn't the best plan,  it didn't completely keep things under control, but it helped enough that he was comfortable to show up. Some non-penetrative sex would be good too, it'd been a while since he'd had a blow job.

The plug sat heavily in his bowels, putting just enough pressure in the right places as he walked that he was more than ready to be touched when he got to John's room. Never mind the sick, painful gurgle his guts gave as another bubble of gas was forced to return to his intestines.

Ocelot barely stepped in the door before he got his wish quite immediately. Though between a steady grinding of hips and an increasingly naked make out session, it all unfortunately meant he was thoroughly _distracted_ when John found the plug.

“You came prepared?” John questioned as his fingers hooked onto the rubber base of the plug, tugging before Ocelot even had a chance to really protest it.

“That's not wha-” Ocelot was going to protest, going to until the plug was pulled out suddenly, then he had to clench.

It was a rock and a hard place, Ocelot was caught between explaining his issue, embarrassing himself and missing out that night or just plain embarrassing himself. Neither option was particularly appealing in the heat of the moment.

In a lapse of judgement, Ocelot allowed John to to nudge his body down on all fours.

“Put it back,” Ocelot managed the request with a shiver. “Just for a bit,” it was hard to give John a flat no for certain things, regardless of how he felt about it personally. Sex was an especially bad one, though maybe that was just because it wasn't something he could just have whenever he wanted, it was always planned and scheduled.

“You're ready now though.”

Ocelot couldn't exactly argue that one, at least not particularly well. He'd been worked up before they started, and it had hardly taken anything to reduce him to a needy mess, but that wasn't the reason behind the whine in the back of his throat when John touched him this time. It was just an unfortunately timed twist in his guts, one that in the end came off as encouraging.

“You're _more_ than ready.”

Quickly enough John's thick, slicked cock pressed against Ocelot's clenched hole. He didn't need to think twice about it, he just pushed right in, oblivious to Ocelot's fairly literal gut-wrenching terror in the moment.

The effect of such a sudden penetration was immediate, forcing an unfortunately loud fart from Ocelot, the lubricant gave it a ripe, wet tone that left no room at all for misinterpretation.

Regretting that he hadn't pushed harder for his original plan, Ocelot went completely still, just waiting for a reaction as heat spread across his skin.

A reaction that never came, John hesitated for a moment, his dick sliding out briefly, but then he continued as if nothing had happened. Just rolling his hips to find an angle that would allow him deeper into the obliging body under him.

Ocelot tried to move along with him, breaking free of his shock to make sure he at least _tried_ to engage John while he was being fucked. He could be many things, but he hated to think of 'limp fish' being one of them.

Although Ocelot's insides gurgled viciously, reacting poorly to the way his stomach was moving with the rest of his body and shifting pressure in his bowels. For one hopeful minute, Ocelot had believed that first fart might have been just a fluke and he could start to enjoy this but then John pushed one of his thighs forward to spread him open further, unfortunately putting pressure on his gas laden gut, causing every thrust come with a short, wet sounding fart.

If Ocelot thought he was red before, that was nothing compared to now. He was _farting_ while John was fucking him and he couldn't do a thing to stop it. Clenching to try and hold it in only made it louder, trying to relax made them longer. The worst part by far though, was feeling each bubble of gas rumble up between his backside and John's stomach, pulling all his attention to exactly what was happening.

As much as Ocelot enjoyed John's body against his back and his mouth on his neck, he just couldn't focus on it and appreciate it properly. Not while this was happening, not with the stench starting to permeate the room and the way his guts twisted themselves up in knots with the rolling motions of sex.

John didn't seem to care about the wind problem, but that did nothing to alleviate Ocelot's nerves. Burying his face in his arms, Ocelot tried to will the situation away, make-believe _this wasn't_ happening and _this was_ just a normal sex session where _nothing_ had gone wrong.

It didn't help in the _slightest_ , and the earth's crust still hadn't gotten on to swallowing him up since the last time he wished that would happen. He just had to live with the complete and utter mortification.

At least the grunting and groaning by his ear sounded like John was close, seemingly still enjoying himself as he nudged Ocelot's body again to encourage him to roll with the motions of his hips. Ocelot felt like he was going to vomit soon, but hopefully he'd be able to finish John off before that happened.

John's prosthetic arm wrapped tightly around Ocelot's middle as he came, squeezing him uncomfortably hard, forcing a truly nasty sounding and downright evil smelling toot to rip from Ocelot's guts.

For a second Ocelot almost believed John had done that to him on purpose, but he dismissed it as unintentional when John buried his teeth into his shoulder to ride out the last few pumps of his orgasm.

John's weight settled on Ocelot heavily as his body went limp. Taking a moment to rest and enjoy the surge of endorphins before he bothered to move.

Ocelot was more than ready for this all to be over when John finally got off him, most of his previous arousal had been killed off by the predicament. It was only by pure physical stimulation he was still hard at all.

Which was why he was completely startled to be flipped onto his back and John's chin nudging against his half-heartedly hard dick.

“You said you wanted a blow job tonight, didn't you?” John didn't think twice about this either, Ocelot hadn't come yet so he was going to get the job done one way or another. He was far too familiar with how to make Ocelot tick, no matter how hard Ocelot's interest had been killed off, John knew just how to make it all come roaring back.

Fortunately, now that Ocelot wasn't being fucked it was far easier to keep control of the seemingly endless gas, but he was still absolutely petrified of what would happen if he relaxed for a second. John's rough lips around his cock and his beard scratching against the inside of his thighs were more than enough to make Ocelot's toes curl any day of the week, but every drop of pleasure right now made Ocelot tense up further. All of him pulled tight like a bowstring, flushed from both humiliation and arousal.

Ocelot's spontaneous impression of a wooden plank had little effect on the job John was doing between his legs.

John rubbed the inside of Ocelot's hips with his metal thumb, willing him to relax just a little, massaging Ocelot's balls with his flesh and blood hand to try to push him over the edge just that little bit faster. Not that John minded doing this, it just seemed Ocelot needed it more than he had, Ocelot was far too tense.

Ocelot dug his heels in, both physically and metaphorically. A large part of him wanted to get off right then and there, to buck into that lovely warm mouth wrapped around him until he came but another part wanted to retain some semblance of dignity for as long as he could, as if his dignity hadn't already been completely shredded.

Caught painfully hard between wanting to hurry up and come and at the same time wanting to not come at all.

Pure physical stimulation eventually won out, harshly wringing Ocelot's orgasm from him as his muscles steadily gave up on him. Each pump of semen coming with the hiss of a (fortunately) silent fart escaping as his control slipped. Ocelot was far too exhausted by that point to really feel the embarrassment any more, he felt raw and completely spent, sorely wishing there was some way to buckle and collapse despite the fact he was already lying flat on his back.

John extricated himself from Ocelot's legs, stretching before getting back onto the bed, pulling Ocelot along to lie with him. Bent on settling his chin in the crook of Ocelot's neck and gathering his body up against his.

Ocelot wasn't sure what else to do other than go along with it, he didn't have the energy to protest or the coherency of thought left to think of _anything_ else. John's beard scratched against his neck and shoulders, far more pleasant now he wasn't stressing himself to pieces and could very nearly relax properly. They were both sticky from sweat, come, and lubricant, but _it could wait_. It was nice just to doze, lie there and breathe, despite the fading smell of his stomach upset.

John broke the relative quiet first this time.

“Could we do it like this again? Not right now of course, but another time? I'll make you lunch for it and everything.”

With that, Ocelot's blood went cold.


	3. Gas Chamber

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly the second chapter exists almost entirely so I could build the story for this chapter which is pretty much the entire reason I wrote anything more than chapter 1.

Agreeing to eat food made by John likely ranked among some of the worst decisions Ocelot had made in his life. In so much as some of it could be classified as food, sure it _could_ be eaten, but whether it _should_ didn't always seem to enter John's mind.

In the end it had the desired effect on Ocelot's insides.

And gave Ocelot the worst cramps he'd had in his life.

The meals John made wrought the worst kind of havoc in his body. Not only was he finding himself spending more and more time curled up in outright crippling pain, the dietary choices gave it all an even more repulsive odour than anything else had caused since the problem started.

Now it was rare that Ocelot went a full hour without passing _something_ , and that was if he was lucky. Though as uncomfortable as the cramping Ocelot experienced from John's 'cooking' was, he'd mostly learned to manage the gas it gave him discretely. It was just when DD jumped on him wrong, or Miller jabbed him that a full blown attack occurred.

Ocelot couldn't blame DD for being a puppy, but Miller had started making it a habit, going for the kill at almost every opportunity. Running into him in a small space like an elevator was asking for trouble, just because Miller had jabbed him in the stomach a dozen times before didn't make this time hurt any less, if anything he was aiming to hit the bruise he'd left last time out of spite.

Ocelot should have dodged, Ocelot probably could have dodged if it hadn't been for Snake's meal plan.

Which was why Miller was doing it in the first place.

In the elevator he didn't have anywhere to really run, so Ocelot bent over double and clenched. He just needed to hold on for two floors and he could go find somewhere private to ride out the attack Miller had induced.

Not that he'd never broken wind in Miller's presence before, but it was the principle of the thing. Miller wanted him to suffer, Ocelot didn't want to give him the satisfaction of letting him see the actual suffering step.

The smug fucker was standing there as if he hadn't done anything, relying on Ocelot being in too much pain to do much to him before he got to the floor he needed.

That was when the lights went out and the elevator shuddered to a dead halt with a heavy, metallic clunk.

A single mutual muttering of the word 'fuck' expressed the situation nicely.

Ocelot eased himself down to the floor gingerly to curl in on himself. Reaching for his belt carefully, loosening it by a couple of holes to keep pressure off his bloating guts, before sliding the rest of the way down to lie on his side. Hissing as his organs wrenched painfully inside him in response to his movements.

The floor was filthy, but it was better to lie here than risk letting off the horror show brewing inside him in such an enclosed space. Though Ocelot realised he might not have the choice if power wasn't restored soon. Especially considering the violent wet noises his stomach was making.

In a more comfortable position, Ocelot went for his radio, only to find the wire ripped out. Had to have caught on something, however Miller's seemed to be working by the sound of things. That was something, though Ocelot had to hope any help or repairs came quickly.

Right now it felt like a gas tank had been shoved inside him and he just couldn't get rid of it fast enough, not that he was trying to get rid of it right now. His guts were bloating worse than ever, pressing against his loosened belt, as he tried to contain himself.

All the trapped, rancid air festering inside was trying to make an exit against his body's resistance, but if he could just hold a little longer, maybe he'd last until the power came back and elevator started moving again. Ocelot groaned softly with discomfort as he clenched harder.

“Stop whining,” Miller's voice came from the other side of the small metal box they were stranded in. “And give me your radio if your not going to be useful.”

Ocelot had turned and opened his mouth to reply when a high pitched, squeaking fart breached his resistance. It wasn't even a preview of what was fermenting inside his guts, but it was more than enough to pull his attention back to keeping anything else from slipping out.

“That better have been a fucking joke.”

“Fuck you,” Ocelot grunted, it wasn't particularly the wittiest reply, but Ocelot certainly wished it was a joke.

Unfortunately for everyone, it wasn't a joke, and in such a small space the smell overtook the area easily. No matter how much self-control Ocelot had, he was only going to be able to control this for so long, and then... well all the discipline in the world wasn't going to help after that.

“God, what did you even eat?”

Miller's disgusted tone brought a tinge of satisfaction, even though his cheeks were absolutely burning up.

“What was it you said before? Stop whining,” Ocelot threw his words back in his face, Ocelot didn't appreciate the stench any more than Miller did but he absolutely blamed Miller for the fit his intestines were throwing right now. For the sake of putting the worst off as best he could, Ocelot eased out a silent burst of hot, putrid air, hoping it wouldn't be noticed in the wake of the first, curling himself up a little more to keep pressure off his stomach.

“You didn't just shit yourself, did you?”

“Believe me Miller, if I end up shitting myself in here, you'll be the first to know,” the past week had given Ocelot a good deal of practice in identifying his own stomach problems, he didn't think there was a risk, but if it did happen: he'd fight Miller for his pants.

Shitting his pants might not have been a risk, but there was more than enough noxious gases in his body to make both of them _wish_ he had.

On the off chance maybe they'd get out before he lost control of his insides, Ocelot disconnected the broken wire, and slid his radio over to Miller's side. It was a small hope, but better than simply waiting.

For a good ten minutes he was able to just lie there without incident, listening to the bitter complaints of his bowels and Miller trying to convince his radio to work.

Help wasn't coming nearly fast enough and Ocelot needed to let off some of the pressure in his guts now more than ever. Curling on the floor the way he had only did so much to ease the pain and keep his body under control.

Ocelot's guts grew progressively louder in direct proportion to how painful the cramps in his intestines were, gurgling their displeasure to anyone who'd listen. Gas rumbled back and forth between his bowels and colon as he refused to let it pass, after a few more minutes though it was just building up agonising pressure.

Eventually Ocelot just lifted a leg and _squeezed_ , to hell with how it sounded, the putrid air rotting in his guts was tearing him up inside too badly and his anger at Miller was too close to boiling over for him to care this time.

“Jesus Christ, _Ocelot_!”

“Like I said, fuck you Miller, fuck you,” it was humiliating, but knowing Miller was actively suffering while he was balanced it out... almost.

“You ever consider telling the boss 'no' to this shit?”

“See my previous answer.” He'd thought about telling John 'no' a lot of times for a lot of reasons, and there were just as many reasons that Ocelot had caved on this point. Not necessarily _good reasons_ , but there were _reasons_. Like how excited John had seemed talking about the different foods he'd wanted Ocelot to try... “You ever consider maybe not jabbing me in the guts? Maybe then we wouldn't be in this situation _now_.”

“If you just said _no_ and stopped taking whatever he's giving you, you wouldn't be dropping those air nuggets all the damn time in the first place.” Kaz considered leaving it there, but really, he shouldn't have to deal with this, so he tacked on a jab at the end, “who knows maybe you'd do some real work around here?”

Ocelot only farted in response. Less to be passive aggressive and more because he was trying to find a position that hurt less, or if not less, was at least more comfortable. Lifting his hips with a grunt allowed his bowels to expel another extended hiss of foul air to ease his discomfort.

The next wasn't as silent as he'd hoped to make it, short, but coming with a deep, brassy tone that left no mistake what it was.

Enough was enough, Kaz had dealt with far too much bullshit in this life time to have to deal with what ever stupid horse shit Ocelot decided to put himself through over his desperation for cock.

“Knock it off,” gripping the handle tightly, Kaz took to jabbing Ocelot with his crutch blindly in hopes maybe he could be pestered into keeping his fumes to himself (and the boss since he of all people was apparently _into that_ for some reason.)

“That Is Not _Helping_ , Miller,” Ocelot growled through clenched teeth, the additional jostling was just loosening up more bubbles of gas to rip their way through his insides. While it would have been so very easy to just let go and let Miller suffer the consequences, Ocelot couldn't quite get himself to simply _let go_ of that bit of dignity.

If it could even be considered dignity at this point.

Grabbing the end of Miller's crutch, Ocelot yanked, hoping to get it away from him.

Kaz had a better grip on it and fortunately could yank back far harder, dragging Ocelot to his side of the elevator so he could grab him. Catching Ocelot's body with his legs so he could get the man under him and punch him.

Ocelot had been just unprepared enough that it worked well enough for Miller to get a punch in, but keeping him down was the trouble. Miller's disability was absolutely to Ocelot's advantage, unless Miller got him face down with his hands pinned, it was very difficult for him to create a situation where Ocelot couldn't throw him and reverse the situation.

And Ocelot didn't need to punch him to keep him down. His weight on Miller's chest was enough to make it difficult for Miller even if it wasn't a proper pin.

“Damn it,” Kaz' frustration was obvious in his voice. More frustrated with the state of his body than directly at Ocelot, but Ocelot was certainly a contributing factor.

Ocelot was pleased with it for now, especially now he could just shut Miller up by clamping a hand over his mouth.

Unfortunately while momentarily forgotten in the moment, that scuffle had been too much for Ocelot's guts, the wrenching gurgling was just threatening enough that Ocelot was torn on whether or not to make sure Kaz stayed down. If he let him up, Kaz was almost certainly going to seek revenge, trying to get him in a better pin was just going set off the time bomb brewing inside him, and if he stayed here, well...

Every inch of Ocelot just wanted to curl in on himself so he wasn't putting more stress on his stomach. His weight could almost keep Kaz pinned, but Kaz could still throw him off if he didn't keep himself stabilised properly. Unfortunately the position also meant Kaz would feel every single bubble of gas that might escape him no matter how quiet he was.

Not that it was any less awkward straddling the man like this and squirming as he tried to keep his guts under control. With a pained shudder Ocelot forced himself to stay upright where he was.

Just a couple of minutes was unbearable, Ocelot could feel sweat starting to build on his brow from the effort and pain. Each cramp and bubbling gurgle was echoing in his ears as he fought to maintain both his position and control of his own body. Cringing with every knotted twist and contortion his insides made in protest.

Despite his determination, Ocelot couldn't hold his bowels forever. The second he let go, just relaxing for a moment, he let loose a long, violent, almost complete-sensory-assault of a fart that held steady and loud for very nearly a full fifteen seconds. Every obnoxious second of it drawn out by how it vibrated against the body of the man under him as all that vile gas oozed from his system.

The thick, greasy, rotten stench filled the enclosed space far too quickly, utterly obliterating the memory of the ones prior to it and it just kept going. Clinging to the walls and the nostrils, making eyes water with its tainted essence.

The relief it gave though, Ocelot was red-faced and panting, fighting the urge to groan as his hold on Miller loosened. The smell was more than enough to make him dry-heave, but for a few moments it felt good just to be free of it. Ocelot's body relaxed a bit as he allowed an almost satisfied sounding sigh, only for another couple of bubbles of gas to burble out as his body started to sag.

How he still had _any_ gas left after something like _that_ was a mystery.

“When we get out of here, go to the fucking sick bay,” Miller choked out, trying not to breathe in at all. The stench was awful enough breathing through his nose, but if he breathed through his mouth, he'd almost definitely end up tasting the smell too, “that is a fucking order.”

Now Kaz wasn't a medical professional, but what Kaz was certain of, other than his desire to no longer require to breathe, was that something had to be very wrong for a human body to be doing that, especially with someone as prissy and uptight as Ocelot could be.

“...Fine,” Ocelot couldn't think of much more to say, especially in the wake of what had just come from his body. No matter how much better he felt having it out of him.

Further conversation was cut off by a clunk. The metal box lurched, then slowly but surely the elevator shuddered back to life, the lights returning with a unsteady flicker as the mechanisms started to hum. Starting to move right where it had left off.

Now they could both see, both of them were a mess, clothing rumbled and covered in sweat, if it wasn't for the stench of Ocelot's guts still lingering it would almost have looked like they'd just had sex. Ocelot's still quite red skin did nothing to improve that impression.

Ocelot wasted no time in getting to his feet, setting about straightening his clothes in hopes he'd be presentable enough to make a run for it when the doors opened. He was going to go find himself a nice spot to hide with plenty of fresh air and a nice breeze, then never speak of any of this again.

Unfortunately for Kaz, just getting to his feet was tricky here. Straightening himself out took even more work with his single arm, and even then he was still going to look fairly rumpled until he had a chance to sit down and really dedicate some time to it. Unlike Ocelot he wasn't going to be able to bolt.

Waiting for the second the door opened and Ocelot starting to move, Kaz decided to enact at least one bit of revenge. With Ocelot's preoccupation with escaping it was incredibly easy to stick his crutch out at the right height to trip Ocelot. The sound of him crashing face first into concrete _almost_ made the ordeal worth it.

Kaz still fully intended to make Ocelot pay, _of course_ , but that glorious little moment made the taste of the fresh air that much sweeter. A shower and a change of clothes would make it even better.

For Ocelot, smashing into the concrete was the final straw for his stomach. He barely made it to his hands and knees before he lost the contents of his stomach, vomiting onto the pavement of the platform.

With the things he'd been made to eat, he could only be grateful it hadn't happened inside the enclosed space of elevator, but even after his stomach was empty he retched and heaved a few more times before he was over it.

Unfortunately giving Miller more than enough time to escape.

Ocelot would need to find a way to make him _suffer._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon compliance shmanon compliance, I'm not going to adapt this for that. The garbage comes as is.


	4. the Sick Bay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was getting a bit long so I cut it in half.

Ocelot's gas was always at its worst first thing in the morning. Of course, if it wasn't for officer's quarters and usually sleeping on his own he'd probably hear a different story, however from his personal perspective it seemed like whatever horrors his guts managed to brew only managed to concentrate overnight.

He slept poorly enough with all the cramping, but with the morning thunder leaving him with the queasiest start to the day possible, none of it left Ocelot in anything remotely resembling a good mood. After the first, second and third releases from his rotten, putrefying insides, he was sorely wishing Snake needed to go on a long mission for a week or two. Maybe a month. Just long enough to eat a few meals of fresh fruit and vegetables that hadn't been drowned in batter or grease, and maybe spend some time not suffering horrible pain or some nasty by-product of making the pain stop.

Just a few days without dealing with the putrid flatulence, vile cramping, and disgusting food.

If something didn't come up soon he'd need to make something come up, since refusing the meals Snake gave him was out of the question. Even when it wasn't about getting laid.

Though he'd give the Philosopher's Legacy for new intestines and Snake to find something different to entertain himself.

Rolling onto his front, Ocelot lifted his arse into the air to make it easier for his guts to shift the gas already ripping up his insides. There wasn't any point in pretending he had dignity left, especially not alone in his own quarters. At this point he was settling for 'being able to move properly without agony' or 'not publicly ripping one loud enough to deafen the entire intel team.'

Maybe even that was setting his hopes too high, maybe it was more reasonable to aim for 'not driving himself from his own shower' when he finally got up to take one. Showers had a bad habit of intensifying the smell of the smallest toot, and Ocelot's gaseous releases were getting more rancid and prolific by the day.

The smell was sickening enough in the far more ventilated space of his sleeping quarters, especially just as he pressed out a long, low fog-horn sounding fart from deep in his belly that burned far more on the way out than the curry he'd been fed the previous night had going in.

At least that had had some vegetables in it, Boss loved his meat after all, and he enjoyed watching Ocelot eat too apparently, which made it harder to for Ocelot to sneak extra plant matter on his plate.

The lack of fibre was doing his guts in just as badly as anything else.

Constipation was worse than the diarrhoea, at least on the pain and suffering front. Made it harder to move and made the gas his insides produced more toxic smelling than ever. It was simpler to manage than running to the bathroom every five minutes of course, but far more painful and he almost always needed to fart more often as his stomach tried to relieve the pressure.

It wasn't noisy but he'd seen at least a couple of people stop dead, like they'd hit a brick wall face first, when they'd obliviously walked into the lingering stench, before they immediately changed their minds about what they were doing, turned around and went in the opposite direction.

It was just a matter of time before someone other than Kaz figured out it was him dropping those.

Hell it was entirely possible someone else knew by now and was just too polite or too scared to say anything.

It wasn't productive to consider though, there were more important things on Ocelot's plate to worry about than if anyone knew how much wretched flatulence he was suffering from.

Shaking the thought from his head, Ocelot forced himself upright with a stretch and airy, evil-smelling 'gift' from his abused intestines. Stripping down for a shower so he could at least _pretend_ he wasn't going to spend the day smelling like a skunk crawled up inside his arse and died.

Undressed, his stomach looked far softer than it should have, but it only took a little pressure to tell it was much too hard for fat. Tight with gas, it only looked soft because of his long-suffering abdominal muscles forcibly relaxing to accommodate his painfully bloating insides. It was just a desperate attempt from his body to make itself comfortable despite the perpetually fermenting waste inside.

Just another thing to hate about his wretched turn-coat digestive tract.

As if on cue, as soon as he stepped under the water, his stomach gave a viciously threatening gurgle. Making a sound like an emptying drain pipe before letting off a long hissing fart that very nearly made him vomit despite how familiar he was getting with the worst products of his bowels.

Leaning against the wall, Ocelot tried to hurry himself through the process of getting clean, aiming to get himself out as quickly as possible before the fumes actually ended up making him puke. Especially once the putrid stench he'd produced started mixing with the steam.

Eventually his gag reflex lost the battle, forcing him to pitch forward and retch, he didn't have anything in his stomach to puke, but choking and dry heaving wrenched his insides excruciatingly. Forcing more wretched farts out of him as he coughed up bile and stomach acid. The vile feed-back loop quickly pulled him down to the floor of the shower, not quite collapsing, but certainly not ready get up off all fours any time soon.

Between a face-full of mucus and salt from the stomach acid burning his sinuses and eye-burning stench of his defective bowels, which unlike his body's attempts to vomit up his empty stomach, showed no sign of letting up, he felt ready to kill someone. Or cry, those impulses could be similar at times.

Either way, he wasn't exactly getting clean like this.

He just... he needed a moment before he could sort himself out properly.

Ocelot honestly didn't want to get back to his feet, but it was something he had to do eventually even if he'd rather go curl up in bed for a month or two.

The vaguely herbal and floral scents of his various soaps mixed sickly with the vile odour his arse had produced, but Ocelot was neither willing to use the staff showers nor risk ruining the state of his hair with different products.

Fortunately after his initial attempt to vomit his stomach out his gag reflex was a bit more compliant. The smells were no less disgusting, but he at least had a hold of himself enough now that it wasn't going to cause any problems beyond being completely revolting. He just needed to scrub down without putting too much pressure on his guts.

The shower made him less drowsy, though no less cranky and sore than he'd woken up. No less gassy either, though it was easier to let off while he was drying off. The place already reeked and now the steam was dissipating it was slightly less choking.

Better than just sitting around on a toilet doing nothing but farting and hoping to take a much needed shit anyway.

Getting dressed Ocelot made the decision, the hardened mass in his guts was getting in the way. As much as he appreciated not being at risk of soiling himself, it had to go.

Putting off actual work by rescheduling the drills he was supposed to run, Ocelot fed himself a breakfast of fruit juice and laxatives.

He was supposed to be spending the night with John, but if he didn't take a shit soon there was no way he was going to be able to move let alone be in any state for sex. He wouldn't have considered himself in a state for sex currently anyway, but with the man's sudden love for putting him through horrible intestinal distress, this was the way it was.

It'd take about an hour to kick in so doing this early would mean he'd have a chance to fuel up before he actually had to 'perform' without the added distress of the past couple of days. Though he certainly wasn't going to be doing this in his own bathroom.

The public faculties were one plan, but a little more privacy would be better and he certainly owed an owner of officer's quarters some pay back.

Kaz' private bathroom seemed the place to victimise, he still owed Kaz some suffering for that time in the elevator. Kaz almost certainly wouldn't clean up himself, but ideally he wouldn't know what Ocelot had done until he needed the faculties himself. It'd do for a little thing like tripping him with the crutch and making him puke.

Around that time of morning, Kaz was almost definitely in his office, which meant Ocelot didn't need to rush himself. Ideal since rushing wasn't going to be an option once he started.

* * *

 

The laxatives kicked in right on schedule, the dense cramping from Ocelot's constipation turning into far wetter gurgles and glugs as everything started to move. It was a good time to make a beeline for the planned 'landing zone.'

All he needed to do was pick the lock, most of the locks on unimportant doors like this were simple enough they could just be raked. Unfortunately just as the last pin fell into place, Ocelot was interrupted.

A fully armed team, from the medical platform if the bands were to be believed.

Either way with the semi-urgent gurgle from his stomach, Ocelot definitely didn't have time for it.

“We need you to come with us sir.”

“Just wait ten-” that could have been pushing it, “twenty minutes and I'll go with you quietly,” Ocelot tried not to make it sound pleading but he certainly needed it.

“Sorry sir, if you refuse to come now we have orders to tranq you and carry you there.”

Ocelot could certainly shake off a fair number of tranq rounds, but chances were that was accounted for here. It was in his medical records in case they needed to sedate him for surgery. Even if it wasn't accounted for here though, there was no guarantee the rest of his self-control would stay intact, if it didn't bring him down it'd still potentially relax parts of him that Ocelot honestly couldn't afford to have relaxed right now.

There was no doubt the staff had handled worse, but outside the privacy of his quarters he still liked to at least pretend he still had dignity in this arrangement. It was easier to come quietly and pray he held out long enough to at least use a bathroom even if it wasn't Miller's.

Fortunately they weren't going to make him walk to the medical platform so the risk was lower and it was easier to disguise his intestinal pain. Even if every little bump along the way made him wince.

With what he took, he wasn't going to risk letting off the tiniest fart if he could help it.

At the medical platform they had a wheelchair waiting for him, he wasn't going to consider what they thought was wrong with him to go to that trouble but he'd go along with it to ease the concerns for now.

Getting wheeled to sick bay was easier on his stomach than the drive to the platform, but pressure was building enough for Ocelot to be sincerely concerned about the immediate future of his dignity.

The second Ocelot saw Kaz' smug face waiting just by the door, that was when he made the decision to make a run for it. Ocelot was willing to let the doctors look over him and find nothing wrong, he was not willing to let Kaz one, watch, or two, direct their attention.

Unfortunately just twisting to get out of the chair a bit too fast wrenched his guts wrong and Ocelot was not prepared to suppress the pain of it, mostly leading to tripping over the wheelchair, the door-side table, and his own spurs before the impact with the floor led to letting off a bubble of gas he'd been holding in since the middle of the trip to the strut. It wasn't loud but there was no hiding the smell.

Especially since the second he'd flinched when twisting to get up the medical team had started moving to grab him. Those bastards were fast, and the group had bustled him to the gurney more insistently than he'd imagined possible. Between the pushing, shoving, arguing and straight up manhandling both to check him and remove his clothes there wasn't a hope of suppressing the gas he'd been holding on to. With every nudge, squeeze and flex, Ocelot had ended up dropping no less than half a dozen farts before any of the medics had said a single word to him.

“Any chest pain?”

That wasn't what Ocelot had expected to be asked. It was hard not to sound stupid when he answered a completely baffled sounding “no?”

“Neck pain? Nausea? Fatigue?”

Maybe some of those applied to Ocelot's state, but they had nothing to do with anything other than what he was doing to himself. Speaking of, Ocelot's insides gurgled loudly, reminding him how painfully close they were to boiling over with a vicious cramp.

There was nothing wrong with outright asking.

“Look, I'll answer any questions you need, let you do your tests, take samples or whatever, please just let me visit the bathroom first.” It was a little closer to pleading than he wanted, especially after he'd asked the escort. Ocelot's hands itched for his revolvers, even if they hadn't been taken off him in the shuffle, pulling them was objectively a dick move. The medics were just trying to do their jobs, just like he was trying to do his. That said, if they refused, well, he couldn't exactly be held responsible for the end result.

* * *

Fortunately they let him, unfortunately it was with supervision.

These procedures were put in place to stop Snake running back out on the field too soon, but now it was biting him in the arse, very nearly literally. Still, at least he was being allowed to use a toilet and not a fucking bed pan in front of the team. Someone was keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn't try to climb out a window, but it was infinitely better than shitting himself in front of Miller while the medics poked and prodded his stomach.

They may have been a someone who dealt with enough sick, dying and dead people regularly that bodily functions were routine for them, but they were still another person. _Listening_ , even if they had their back to him. That was almost enough to make his bowels lock down on him, despite the downright dangerous amount of pressure inside him.

Nothing had escaped him yet, but the hardened mass in his intestines almost certainly wasn't going to go quietly even with the laxatives loosening things up, having a chance to steel himself to the fact someone was listening was a small reprieve to the inevitable humiliation he was going to feel when his insides started moving properly.

Settling on the toilet, his bowels announced movement with a thunderous fart, followed by a series of softer, progressively wetter sounding pops. Ocelot's guts lurched obscenely as his body set to getting rid of the three to four days worth of waste that had been festering inside him. Occasionally freeing a trapped bubble of rotten gas as his system was unclogged by the drug.

The fan hardly did anything for preventing the oppressive, greasy stench of his bowels overtaking the room but there wasn't much he could do about that. All he could do was wait it out and generally hope his arse wasn't too raw afterward.

It took longer than expected but finally running on empty, his insides gave one last long, wet, sputtering fart before finally settling to something resembling calm. As much as his stomach could ever be considered calm lately. It was best not to think about it and try to get himself cleaned up quickly. The flush sounded questionable but not even morbid curiosity was going to make him check.

With a bitter groan Ocelot allowed his 'escort' to return him to the gaggle of medics. It was decidedly better for him to try not to think about what information was being relayed between them.

Finally though, they reduced their numbers to just the one medic making it far easier to have a civilised conversation about his personal health.

Or at least it would have been if the doctor didn't keep trying to see how deep he could press his finger into different parts of Ocelot's stomach and ask if it hurt before asking for every possible sample he could take. All while Kaz watched, smug as he could possibly look.

Ocelot lost track of all the things they were apparently testing for, the ones like appendicitis and the onset of a heart attack were easy enough to remember, but the names of the parasites, allergies and auto immune diseases were easily lost in the shuffle of what amounted to 'a metric fuck-tonne of words that had very little to do with anything.'

After all, Ocelot knew exactly why he was in pain, he'd done it to himself and he certainly wasn't about to explain it to anyone if he could help it. Which was why he was going to go along with the tests and examinations quietly. As quiet as he could be with the state of his stomach, all the poking and prodding just upsetting his overly sensitive digestive tract.

Eventually just forcing him to let go of a long, puttering but completely rotten fart he'd been trying to hold on to. The medic didn't seem to address it so Ocelot was happy to nod along with it up until they mentioned keeping him for observation, that was where he drew the line. If only because he was supposed to meeting certain people that evening.

Just as Ocelot moved to protest, Kaz 'helpfully' interrupted. “Don't worry about it, I let him know on the radio you're being kept overnight for observation.”

_Shit._


	5. In which Kaz ruins Ocelot's day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the second part of the final chapter, probably needs editing but I don't feel like it.

Ocelot grunted, rocking back as another greasy, wet sounding fart vibrated against John's cock. The lubricant made it sound worse than it was, but if Ocelot ever had to see another plate of sausage and beans it would be far too soon.

Still, John seemed to enjoy it. Sliding his dick up against the crease of Ocelot's arse to properly appreciate every single bubble of gas Ocelot had to offer.

Ocelot wasn't about to deny him, not that he had much choice in that whenever John squeezed his belly to force more thick, bubbly, rancid farts from him.

“That's it, fart on my cock, give me all your nasty gas,” John's voice was husky, hot and insistent in Ocelot's ear.

If he ignored the words, maybe it would have been arousing. Instead, Ocelot bit his tongue so as not to comment, lest it be something along the lines of 'please stop talking before I never have another erection ever again.'

He had to keep the end goal in mind, aside from making John happy, there'd been some rather lucrative promises made that would make it all worth it, provided he survived the humiliation of the ordeal in the first place. Though, as much as he tried to focus on the future, which promised to be full of pain and the smell of ozone, it was difficult to distract himself from the awful noises his stomach made or what passed for 'dirty talk' while he was doing this.

“You're so full right now,” John purred, further emphasising Ocelot's discomfort and bloated gut with another squeeze.

“Do something else with your mouth, please,” Ocelot begged, hoping John would stop talking for a bit, so he could distract himself. Maybe bury his teeth in the crook of his neck or kiss him, something that could both make John shut up and give Ocelot something else to focus on other than what he was doing.

“Hmm?” John made a sound suggesting he was thinking it over, only to make a choice completely different than anything Ocelot had hoped. Rather than pull him closer, John pushed Ocelot forward, moving himself back, so his face was level with Ocelot's flatulent backside.

Ocelot made an effort not to yelp in surprise, but his skin went a darker shade of red the second he felt what John was doing. For the first time in the whole endeavour, Ocelot actually made a noise of pleasure.

John had buried his face in Ocelot's arse, kissing and licking his way up from Ocelot's perineum to his abruptly quite tense hole.

This was _not_ a better option, letting off gas against John's cock was one thing, farting in his mouth was another entirely. Ocelot didn't have a hope of holding it in either, if he was just being licked he might have managed, but once John penetrated him with his tongue it was impossible.

With John using the wet muscle to force him open and rubbing his poor bloated stomach insistently, Ocelot's farts just wouldn't stop coming.

Then Ocelot woke up...

It seemed Ocelot couldn't escape his predicament even in his dreams, fortunately now he had a private room in the sick bay and his 'morning thunder' wasn't nearly as bad as it had been the previous morning. He still had plenty of gas, cramps and all, but it wasn't the same sinus burning toxicity it had been the previous day.

With a few hours before he had to talk to anyone or would have an opportunity to actually eat anything, Ocelot felt safe enough going on with his morning ritual of getting rid of whatever he could while he was alone, and thus free to fart up a storm if he needed.

Which really, it had been a while since he hadn't sorely needed to, especially first thing in the morning. Much to his personal suffering.

The sick bay's lighter meals helped a lot, but some of the meatier farts were still awful enough he wanted to be careful about breathing through his mouth. The stench of his third that morning was still thick enough to be tasted.

Still it would only get worse if he held it in.

Ocelot whined softly in the back of his throat as he rolled over, half-curled so perhaps he could still doze while dealing with his gas. It wouldn't be good sleep, but more rest than he _had_ been getting in recent weeks.

* * *

 Ocelot actually got to doze a good portion of the day away, there was another battery of tests around midday and another light meal, but for the most part he wasn't bothered much. Hell even his stomach managed to settle down towards the afternoon, only giving the occasional embarrassingly loud gurgle.

It didn't exactly make him well rested though, no matter how much sleep he'd missed out on, sleeping extra just made him drowsy and sluggish.

Eventually someone managed to take time out of their busy day to actually talk to him, unfortunately they brought Kaz along with them.

The doctor held the door for Kaz as he hobbled in, and Ocelot found himself sorely wishing he could still make this an incredibly uncomfortable experience for Kaz. Of course, the one time his stomach _didn't_ have anything to offer on that front.

At least the doctor got down to business quickly, going over all the details, however irrelevant. They said his blood pressure was slightly raised, Ocelot couldn't _begin_ imagine why that was, _oh wait_...

“ ...We believe the cause of all your bowel trouble is an intestinal parasite picked up from the mess hall food, it's fairly common and there's been a number of infections cropping up lately. Causes food intolerance, absorption issues, flatulence, constipation, diarrhoea and a variety of other issues. To make a long story short though, you _should_ have come in sooner.”

The _'without the assistance of an armed platoon_ ' was kindly left implied.

“I'm not going to come in over every little ache and pain,” Ocelot scoffed, as half-arsed of an excuse it was, it was better than admitting the actual reasons he'd avoided coming in. With such stellar hits as _'I find it humiliating'_ and _'my boyfriend really likes it.'_

“With your medical records you probably should, but ignoring that, at your age you should know damn well that on-going abdominal pain isn't exactly a minor symptom. Even if you have other symptoms that explain it, if it lasts more than a week you need to get your backside to us.”

“Fine, what do I need to do to get rid of this?”

“Usually the body gets rid of them on it's own, since that hasn't happened, in your case it's going to be pills and dietary adjustment. Most of it will be about treating the symptoms while killing the parasites. Once it's gone we'll be able to see if there's any permanent damage or changes, you'll keep a bland diet in the meantime since we don't know what it's making you sensitive to yet.

“Basically once you're clear we'll see if you retained any food intolerances.” The doctor shrugged. Probably some of the better news he could be breaking as a military doctor. Getting to say 'take your pills and stop eating garbage' was a step up from 'you'll lose the arm' and 'you'll never walk again.'

* * *

Ocelot wished he could get some sort of reward for not breaking Kaz' face after all of that. He had to settle for the _clearly_ magnanimously given time off and the chance to eat some proper food that didn't set his guts off.

It took about three days, but the first morning he woke without crippling gas cramps, Ocelot was ready to run fucking laps around the base in celebration.

He didn't quite run laps, but Ocelot did take the time to get some sorely missed exercise. It'd been far too long since he'd been able to simply burn energy for the sake of it instead of doing the bare minimum needed to maintain at least some of his fitness.

Ocelot hadn't realised just how on edge he was until he'd properly dealt with the stress. Having real sleep, real exercise and real food did wonders for his mood. To say nothing of the benefits of not being in a constant state of pain and nausea.

Naturally, it wasn't to last.

Ocelot hadn't expected to see Snake at dinner, but he supposed he shouldn't have been entirely surprised.

The man fucking loved watching him eat.

Especially when he picked the meals.

Of course it was a extra large plate of almost everything Ocelot almost certainly shouldn't eat, with a side of beans. Then again, one night wouldn't hurt, well it wouldn't hurt in terms of his recovery, it would certainly hurt in terms of gas cramps and future bathroom trips.

When Snake wanted him to eat, he fucking ate. There wasn't much choice but to pick up the knife and fork.

The sacrifices Ocelot made for this man.

Though just maybe the promise to meet him in his quarters later made it worth it.

* * *

Dinner didn't take all that long to start vehemently disagreeing with Ocelot's insides, hell it was probably worse since he'd had a chance to actually get rid of the insidious bloating for a few days and now his stomach was not at all prepared to handle sudden influx of gas. It certainly didn't take nearly as long for things to get incredibly uncomfortable.

By the time John showed up at his quarters Ocelot was more than a little antsy to start, if only to get rid of some of the pressure in his guts.

Never mind how usually glad Ocelot was to see John, after an ill-fated request for Ocelot to 'save it up for him,' these session gained a degree of desperation.

It wasn't entirely possible to put a compete stopper on the gas, but it didn't mean Ocelot wouldn't at least _try_ to follow the instructions, on nights he was expected to 'perform,' anyway. Trying to keep _that_ up indefinitely wouldn't end well for anyone.

Especially considering Ocelot was still expected to actually work while being a walking biohazard.

As soon as the door was locked, Ocelot went in for a kiss. While John accepted it, the second Ocelot tried to deepen it beyond a little tongue he was pushed away.

“What's wrong?” It was hard for Ocelot not to feel extremely put out getting pushed away after the effort he'd gone to for the attention. Perhaps worse since actual discomfort on his part was involved as opposed to putting work into a little extra preening.

“Well, your surgery,” John elaborated like it was something Ocelot already knew perfectly well.

“What surg-” Ocelot didn't think before starting to ask but John cut him off almost immediately anyway.

“Stop right there, don't lie to me Ocelot. Kaz already told me about how you had to be dragged into a check up in the first place. If you aren't supposed to be having sex, don't pretend you are just because of me.”

Ocelot found himself lost for words, while mostly just trying to keep himself from making it obvious just how angry he was, he let slip a rotten squeaking fart. It was difficult to think of a response that wouldn't either make him look more guilty, or completely screw himself out of his alone time with John. Something he got little enough of as is that he'd been willing to torture himself like this for more of it.

After a few unfortunate moments of stammering like a god damn fool, Ocelot forced a resigned “fine” in response.

For a moment Ocelot had deeply considered just marching out of the room and shooting Miller, while it'd make him feel better, it wasn't at all practical. Aside from the fact Boss would definitely stop him on that one, Ocelot would be damned before he let himself end up in charge of budgeting, and it'd certainly cost him this bit of private time with John he had right now.

After all the shit he was going through for _that_ , even if he wasn't getting fucked, it would be a huge _waste_.

There were other ways he could still, somewhat, enjoy this.

“There's plenty of non-penetrative stuff we could do,” Ocelot offered, hopeful he could still weasel some form of sex from the situation. If his guts _had_ to be a mess that night, he _at least_ deserved to get his dick wet. “Or maybe I could fuck you instead?”

“Better to not, you'd probably tear stitches doing that, besides I don't want to not return the favour and you squirm too much for that to be good for you right now.” John sounded like he wasn't going to tolerate further arguments, “why not watch a movie or something since we don't get to spend much time together?”

Ocelot barely suppressed a huff of frustration, the movie option was sorely tempting, but with the sounds his stomach was making there was the unfortunate possibility his arse might drown out the whole thing. Even if he went back and took his damn pills to calm his insides down, it'd take time to kick in.

Ocelot needed to rethink his strategy to turn this into something that he could at least appreciate, if not completely enjoy.

“If you're not going to have sex with me, would you lie down with me here instead?” Ocelot tried tugging John with him onto the bed, while quietly willing his dick to settle down. He could jerk himself off in the bathroom later.

“As long as you behave yourself,” John warned, but allowed himself to be pulled fairly easily, taking some time to situate himself so they could comfortably settle together.

With a bit of shuffling, Ocelot had his back against John's chest, his head tucked neatly under his chin. Something that might have been comfortably cosy if it hadn't been for Ocelot's dinner.

Which just like every meal John had given him before, had deeply and personally offended his entire digestive tract. Now Ocelot wasn't getting fucked, there wasn't much hope of relief, beyond the natural means.

Unless...

“Those meals you make are terrible for my recovery too y'know... Could you?” Taking John's hand in his own, Ocelot guided it to his painfully bloated stomach, directing him to rub.

Luckily, John didn't need much prompting once he started. Kneading slow circles with his knuckles against Ocelot's belly, encouraging the gas to pass through him.

It took a minute before Ocelot relaxed enough for it to have much effect, but once it did he was able to let the gas off as it came.

Farting like this in front of John wasn't any less embarrassing than it had been the first time, but Ocelot could appreciate the relief he got from those strong hands massaging the trapped air free despite the unpleasant sounds and smells it brought.

“Press a bit harder here.” Ocelot indicated a point on the inside of his hip a bit more solid feeling than the rest of his stomach. His insides gurgled unpleasantly as a sharp, sudden burst of foul gas was forced out of him, but it softened the pain for a bit. “mmm, that's better. Keep rubbing there,” Ocelot moaned, unintentionally of course, John's hands felt good and getting rid of the pressure was even better no matter how it smelled.

Putrid as it was, John never said anything about the smell, he just kept massaging Ocelot's stomach. A quiet, heavy, warm presence at his back, easing the pain while holding him.

Ocelot appreciated that.

Grunting, Ocelot lifted a leg for a particularly stubborn bubble of gas, that proceeded to draw out into a deep, brassy ten second symphony followed quickly by several overly hot four to five second blurts that left Ocelot panting with the effort and his arsehole burning.

Temporarily relieved, Ocelot relaxed back against John's body, taking a break with the easing of his tense, over stuffed insides for the moment.

“Why couldn't you do one of those while I was fucking you?” John teasingly lifted Ocelot's hand to his face and kissed the back of it.

“You're the one who said no sex,” Ocelot snorted, his belly grumbled as more gas shifted inside him to replace what he'd just got ridden of, painfully cramping his intestines all over again. “Don't stop, I can't relax with a full stomach like this.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” John patted Ocelot's stomach before running the heel of his palm against a harder spot, forcing another nasty toot from Ocelot's backside. “Makes you seem like you've eaten a proper meal.”

“You would call that a proper meal,” Ocelot scoffed, before groaning as he farted loudly again,“I prefer being full of food to being full of gas.”

“We'll get some meat on your bones yet,” John murmured in Ocelot's ear, giving his belly a one handed squeeze. "But for the moment let's take care of this."

Maybe it wasn't the ideal outcome, but Ocelot could live with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom, it's all done. I absolutely cut a shit tonne of corners, but I'm honestly proud I actually finished something this long.
> 
> I've never actually kept with a long writing project this long. As you can probably tell by the average word count of my fics, this is a god damn monster fic by my standards.
> 
> As completely embarrassing as it was to do, I'm honestly really fucking happy I did this. I need more of this sort of content in my life.
> 
>  **Fun fact** : the parasite thing was planned before MGSV came out based on research I did for some reason. Post MGSV, well now it's funny so I have to keep it.


End file.
